


Drifting Shards

by 2Bmadeofglass



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark Stuff, Most of these I wrote in my spare time, Murder, Not too-sane characters, Short Stories, There's poems too, Unreliable Narrator, You Have Been Warned, and i'll probably add more tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 19:14:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14551524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Bmadeofglass/pseuds/2Bmadeofglass
Summary: A collection of short stories and poems I have written. Just posting them here instead of letting them collect dust in my drive, so here there are. So yeah...Comments are welcome!





	1. Our Little Boy

I still can’t believe it darling. After years, we finally have a little boy of our own. He looks just like you, it’s uncanny. Still, he has my bottle green eyes, it almost makes him look ethereal. It’s almost unbelievable how the two of us could have a child fairer than the two of us when we were young. Isn’t he beautiful? He’ll steal the hearts of many and sweep the girls off their feet. He looks so adorable when he’s asleep. Darling, don’t be too loud, he may sleep like the dead, but I don’t want to wake him up too early. As soon as he wakes up, let’s all go for a walk.

Yes darling, a walk. Let’s go on a walk to the park together. If we want him to be like the other boys, he’ll eventually have to learn how to play with them. On the plus side, it will give him the sun that he needs for some color in his gray skin. I know darling, some spots are darker than others, but it will even out eventually. Don’t worry darling, the stitches will hold. I doubt anything will fall off. After all, I stitched him up myself. 

Darling, don’t struggle. We can’t have you running out on your son now. He needs a role model to look up to. Please darling, stop fighting against the rope, you know you can’t get out. No matter how hard you try darling, the knots won’t loosen. I’ll wake our dear son up later, in the meantime, you can take a nap as well. Darling, please don’t fight me. We don’t need you to lose another finger now, do we?


	2. The Vulture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is something I wrote last year for my English class based on a photo of a vulture lurking next to a starving child. (I'll put a link to the photo in the notes below.) I was also reading a book about true crimes at the time, so this was inspired by it. Please be cautious while reading it.

He waited. He watched. His cold blue eyes, like that of a vulture flitted everywhere. Never resting on one target. 5 years. Boy. 6 years. Girl. 10 months. Girl. 13 years. Boy.

He stood in the shadows of the park's picnic shelter. Watching little children play. Desire and a dark flame grew within him. 9 years. Girl. 4 years. Girl. 14 years. Boy.

  
Finally, his dead, dead eyes stopped. 7 years. Girl. She was alone in the sandpit. No parents around. No one else around. Everyone in their own little world. 37 years. Male. 32 years. Female. 19 years. Female. 56 years. Male. 28. Female.

He walked slowly with some sort of deliberation. Left. Right. No one took notice of the strange pale man closing into the playground. Right. Left. He loomed over her, his blue eyes searching for a flaw to find none. Black hair. Tanned. Quiet.

“Little girl.” Her head snapped up to look at him in his eyes. Looking. Searching. Brown. “Yes mister?” Cautious. Fumbling. “I have seemed to lost my dog Lady. Could you help me find her?” Ease. Smiling. She stands up and pats away the golden grains of sand off her red dress. “I can help mister. Mommy always says that I’m her little treasure hunter. I’m sure your dog is waiting for you.” Trusting. Desire.

He leads her into the forest on an unused trail. The dirt is soft. Sinking. As soon as they were out of sight of the playground, he struck. Quickly. Quietly. The deep haunting woods was quiet save for the humming of insects. Gone. Lost.

It was weeks before a forest ranger happened across her cold still body. Her eyes staring into the ranger’s still burning soul. Crying. Betrayed. Police soon swarmed the area. A rookie officer loses his lunch in a nearby bush. Ill. Swarming. The girl’s skin is alive with crawling maggots and other insects that creeped into her decayed body.

There are no leads to little Gracie’s murder. Unknown. Wanted.

He waited. He watched. his bright blue eyes, sparkling with madness flitted everywhere. Never resting on one target. 4 years. Girl. 10 years. Boy. 7 years. Boy. 9 years. Boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The link for the photo is here:
> 
> http://100photos.time.com/photos/kevin-carter-starving-child-vulture


	3. A Cold Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some poetry

A cold wind blows,

Shivers crawl down my arm

As I look to the gray sky.

It’s a day for rain,

I think to myself.

 

Walking, walking, walking

Each step is just as steady

As the one before it.

There are people walking

But they go elsewhere.

 

Everyone is wandering

In their own world.

On their phones

Or talking to friends.

I’m lost in my own.

 

In the midst of the gray day,

I see colors of life.

The green of the rustling trees,

The blue glass from a building’s windows,

The vibrant color of each student.

 

A cold wind blows,

I wrap my sweater closer

It’s a good day for coffee,

To drink with friends,

I think to myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after finals back during Autumn semester. I was walking to my dorm after studying for hours in the library. Sort of a contemplation/reflection piece.


End file.
